I Don't Know

She opened her door to me after a few minutes of leaving me waiting on her porch in the drizzle.

"Come in," she said as she turned back into the house, barely looking at me.

I stepped over the threshold and took a look around. There wasn't much to see, really. It was dark, narrow and, well, dark. I took off my coat and shoes and followed her down the hall.

"So, ah, Penny..." I walked into her kitchen, which was infinitely brighter than the first room - sunshine yellow blasted me from the walls - and sat at the table across from her. "What's up?"

"That's what I should be asking you." She picked up her cigarette pack and took one out. One thing I've always loved about her was her smoking - not the fact that she smoke, but how she did it. Those few minutes, inhaling, exhaling, tapping... they were the moments when she was the most beautiful to me. Strange, but true.

"Um, well, I think you know where this is going," I said as I pulled out my own cigarettes and lit one. I gave up a long time ago trying to be a debonair smoker to her elegant one. Watching me smoke should be filmed to make a PSA for teenagers - light, inhale, hack, wipe mouth of spittle, inhale again, tap smoke into general area of ashtray, cover oneself in ash and possibly burn fingers. Yeah, I was a pro.

"Oh. Really? Do I really, Neil?" She stood up and poured herself a cup of coffee and sat back down. No offer of one for me, of course.

"Can I get one of those, too?" I already knew the answer, but I figured I'd try it anyway.

"Yeah, you've got two feet and a heartbeat."

I got up and grabbed my cup out of the cupboard. She liked to make her coffee with a splash of vanilla extract in the brewing water. I hated it and she knew it. Even when she made coffee at my place, she'd dig her bottle of vanilla out of her purse and put some of it in the water. I poured a half-cup and filled the rest with milk and liquid sugar substitue to dull the taste.

I sat back at the table and picked up my cigarette again, burning myself in the process. "Penny, I've been thinking about this for a while."

"Mm-hmm. Yeah, I kind of figured that."

"Oh. How?"

"Are you really that stupid, Neil? Really? Do you think I'm blind or dumb or stupid or... whatever." She sighed heavily and leaned across the table. "Neil, this is going to end. You know that and I know that."

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. "Well, yeah. I was just hoping..."

"You were hoping what? That I'd cry? That I'd throw something? That I'd beg you to not do it? That I would change?" She started laughing. "No, I know when to let something go."

"Oh. Okay, then. I guess that's it then." I lit another cigarette.

"Yeah, that's it." She sat back in her chair and seemed quite content. Now that I think about it, so am I. It wasn't that hard and it wasn't that bad...

"But," she said as she lit another cigarette, "you realize that you're going to have to answer some questions."

I could feel the weight settle on my shoulders like a cloak. "Questions?"

"Yeah, questions." She stood up and brought the coffee pot over to fill our cups. She put the pot back and leaned against the counter.

"Well, ask away." I inhaled and could feel the weight sinking lower on my shoulders.

"First, why?"

"Why what? Why her? Why do it? Why why?"

"Let's start with the first why - why her?" She looked at me over her cup and I could tell she was enjoying watching me suffer through this.

"Um, well, she was there..."

"She was there? That's a nonsense excuse if I ever heard one."

"Look, you want me to tell you why? Stop interupting."

"Sorry." She came and sat back at the table.

"Okay, she was there. You weren't. You were always at the store or at your parents or out of town. Especially because you were out of town, for weeks at a time. What was I supposed to do?"

"Um, I don't know - wait? Suffer through it? I did."

"Did you really?" I leaned forward to catch any kind of hint that she didn't suffer and did the same to me as I did to her.

"Yes, I did," she said with a straight face, without the slightest flinch.

"Well, I guess that kind of screws with my excuse, doesn't it?"

"Yep, I'd say it does."

"What do you want me to say?"

She looked thoughtfully at me for a few minutes. I could almost hear the thoughts running through her head. "You are the one who has to explain this. Not me. I shouldn't have to tell you what to say at all..."

"No. I guess not. I could say I'm sorry."

"Yes, you could. But you don't have to. There's not a whole lot 'sorry' is going to fix. It's happened, we've resolved it in a way, and we're moving on."

"Yeah, moving on... So are we still going to be friends?"

She stood up and started towards the hall. I stood up and followed her. When we got to the front door, she picked up my coat and shoes and opened the door. "Friends?" She threw my coat and shoes out into what was now a full-blown rainstorm. "Sure. Why not?" She pushed me out the door and slammed it behind me.

After I ran through the rain to get my coat and shoes, I left, never to think of her again. I put her behind me, like so many others, only thinking of her when I wanted to feel tragic and forsaken. For all that I put her through, being the jerk I am, she was the best thing to happen to me. But I didn't realize that until it was too late.